


Morning

by glassonion_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-25
Updated: 2002-06-25
Packaged: 2019-06-19 09:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15507174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassonion_archivist/pseuds/glassonion_archivist
Summary: two people wake up together.





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Glass Onion](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Glass_Onion), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Glass Onion’s collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/glassonion/profile).

  
Morning

## Morning

### by Liz Barr

From: "Liz Barr" <> Subject: [glass_onion] FIC: "Morning" (HP, mild R) Date: Friday, June 14, 2002 12:58 AM 

Morning   
by Liz Barr   
June 2002   
rated: mild R for slash and swearing   
codes: HP, m/m, OCs, future-fic   
summary: two people wake up together. 

disclaimer: characters might be original, but the situation isn't. Universe belongs to You-Know-Who. No, not him, her. 

notes: A situation that entered my head and wouldn't leave. OC/OC slash. Yes, I know it's tragic. Features nude Snape impressions. Because. 

* * *

At first glance, they might have been taken for brothers: two tall, slim young men with black hair. Both attractive in their way, bursting with the vitality of energetic, healthy men. 

A second glance would reveal small differences. One, the younger by two years, was a shade taller, with skin almost corpselike in its pallor. He had black eyes and thin lips, sharp nose and cheekbones. He watched the world, analysed the people around him and only acted when his desired outcome was certain. He was thinner than his companion, with hips that made mothers want to feed him. 

Their daughters usually developed different ideas. 

His friend was a fraction darker, more muscular and athletic. He was playful; he hated to be still. This energy often translated into impulsiveness, which his father tacitly encouraged, because it reminded him of himself. 

The younger, more somber of the two was waking up. Not alone, and this was not unusual, although his choice of companion was entirely unprecedented. He raised his head, keeping his nude body wrapped in the thick blankets. 

"Morning, sunshine," said his friend. 

"Fuck off, Ian." 

"Thought we did that last night." 

"Yes, at a decent hour when the sun isn't shining through the windows." He buried his head back under the blankets and began nibbling at his lover's shoulder. 

"Chris, mate?" 

"Mmmm?" 

"That's very distracting." 

Chris's hand wandered downwards. "Better?" 

"No. Well, yeah--" He drew breath suddenly. "Oh." 

Ian shifted slightly, searching for a particularly sensitive spot on Chris's back. 

An hour passed quite pleasantly. 

"Breakfast," Ian asked later. 

"Breakfast?" 

"Yeah, traditionally the first meal of the day. 'Course, in your family it probably comes out of a cauldron--" 

"I know what breakfast is, thanks." Chris frowned. "But ... won't it be obvious?" Downstairs, they could hear the other residents of the large house moving around. 

"We've come down to breakfast together before." 

"Yeah. But it'll be obvious what we've done." 

"Ah." 

Ian rarely bothered with the opinions of others, but Chris had inherited a touch of what would, in a more extreme form, be called paranoia. 

There was a knock at the door, which was immediately opened. 

"Oh, fuck," said Ian's godfather. 

"Yeah, well, most people wait after knocking, don't they?" 

Harry took his glasses off and ran a hand through his grey-flecked hair. 

"Sorry," he said. 

"Yeah, well." Ian waved a hand. "Can't find my wand, can't perform a memory charm, can't be helped." 

"You wouldn't Obliviate your godfather," said Harry confidently. "Your dad'd kill you." He frowned. "Although I wouldn't count on living too long after he finds out about this." 

"You gonna tell him?" 

"Should I?" 

"Shit, no." 

"Then I won't." 

Chris stirred. "What about my dad?" 

Harry laughed. "Look, I'd have to be on speaking terms with your father for that. And as much as I'm enjoying my mental picture of the look on his face when he finds out, I like you too much to want to see it myself." 

Chris smiled slightly. "Right." 

"I'll leave you to, uh, sort yourselves out. My news can wait." He left, closing the door behind him. They heard him pointedly performing a Locking Charm on the other side. 

"Will he keep his word?" Chris asked. 

"'Course he will. Harry knows how to keep secrets." 

"Still." Chris crawled out of bed and began searching around for his pants. "We're gonna have to tell our parents eventually. About this and ... everything else." 

"Yeah, one day. After we've taken over the world." 

"Ian. This is serious. You know what my father will say?" 

"Something cutting and sarcastic?" 

"Yeah, well. Bad enough that I'm not doing an apprenticeship in Potions," Chris said, "now I'm sleeping with the son of a man he hates." 

"Well, my sister's down the hall if you think that'll make it better." 

Chris straightened up, still naked. "'You have a rare gift,'" he quoted, "' a skill beyond the abilities of most witches and wizards. This is something to be treasured, young man, something to be nurtured, not thrown away like yesterday's Daily Prophet.' How was that?" 

"Oh, perfect. Felt like first year Potions all over again." Ian dropped his voice. "Actually, it was a bit sexy." 

**"WHAT?"**

Ian laughed. "Kidding, Chris. You're loads cuter than your dad." He drew his knees up to his chest. "You reckon your dad will take it better, or worse if we tell him about the band first?" 

"Hard to say. What about yours?" 

"Oh, he'll be thrilled about the band. Bring back all sorts of memories of his hell-raising days. Plus, we're doing it with the Weasleys, and he loves the Weasleys. So we tell him about the band first, and then slip in the bit about you 'n' me while he's still crowing about his son the rock star." 

"He won't mind that we're playing to Muggles?" 

"Hell, no. I plan to ask 'im for his old motorbike. Remove the flying charms and take it out on the roads." Ian held out his arms. "Look, come back to bed. Forget about your pants. And your dad." 

"What about breakfast?" 

"It can wait 'til after lunch." 

end 

* * *

"Not. Happy. Jan."  
<http://gatefiction.com/elizabeth/>

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Liz Barr


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